Bird of Prey
by gilraenstar
Summary: "I do not believe your maiden would be unable to function without thy presence." "I know." The elevator arrives and the doors open with a ding. Clint steps in. Thor moves to turn away but is stopped when Clint calls out, "Hey." Clint leans against the wall of the elevator. "She's not my maiden." Thor smiles as the doors close. "Indeed, she is." Thor says to no one.
1. Prologue

HI!if you haven't seen the movie you might not want to read! but anways, read and enjoy!

DISCLAIMER: If i owned the Avengers, do you really think I'd be writing about four hot guys instead of hanging out with them? No. No indeed. Needless to say, I don't them or anything to do with them :I thanks for rubbing it in :'(

* * *

Bird of Prey

~Prologue

Never in all his years had Clint expected to be grouped with such a large mass of ignorant, childish, and overly self-centered people.

Tony Stark is a genius, and he would never think any different on that aspect of the metal-suited hero. But Clint couldn't really think of anything particularly kind about his personal habits. If he were to put it nicely, the words 'free spirit' came to mind, but that doesn't really seem to cover it all. The late night parties, dry humor, and overwhelming idiocy cloaked by nothing other than an amazingly strong armor, made him less then fun to be with.

Though Clint found himself getting used to Tony and the almost sibling-like relationship, it didn't change the fact that he wanted to punch him in the face half the time.

He has nothing against Bruce Banner, though. He's a very nice person, though he can seem a little eccentric at times. He brandishes the same sort of humor that Tony has, but displays it in a much less annoying way. The Hulk side of Bruce is what really gets to Hawkeye though. It takes a lot to scare the archer, but the green monster lurking behind the good doctor had enough of a residual threat that made him wary of saying anything against Banner that made make the beast come forth.

Thor is a bit of character as well and only added to the chaos, as much as he tried not to. While he found it difficult not to break all the things he touched, he claimed that his touch was gentle and that the fragile way of mass production the humans preferred was at fault and not his demi-god strength.

Clint made certain to keep his bow away from him.

The Hawkeye found himself liking the Captain the most. Though he never really had a liking for the military and it's faithful hounds, he found that he could relate somewhat with the time challenged soldier. Besides, Steve was queit most the time, and knew how to get a job done. Two things a spy like Clint thought to be appropriate traits in a person. He was as awkward as a newborn fawn learning to walk for the first time, but it just made him seem that much more down to earth and approachable.

And Natasha is just Natasha to him. She had always been there, even though you might not see her, watching and listening. The feared Black Widow hangs back in the team, not putting in her two cents unless it involved her directly, or she just couldn't stand the endless banter anymore. She seemed only to trust Clint out of them all, but he could tell she was finally starting to open up and let more than just him in her life.

But still, never in all his years does he expect to be stuck with such an eccentric pile of morons that had nothing better to do than argue over the channel choices on television.

Because once you save the world all that matters is keeping up with the Kardashians.

* * *

Hi! my first Avengers fic, and I must say, I absoulutely loved the movie! EEEEEk! anyways, if i get at least one review, I'll post the first chapter right after I get it. So if i get a review within five seconds of posting this, you get the first chapter! :D yay

REVIEWS ARE LOVE! (and i am in need of some love right now)


	2. Chapter 1

_hey! sorry I didn't get it out right away like i promised! i had it finished, but decided I ought to add a bit more, so i took a bit of time to add something else, and I hope you dont mind!_

_anyways, read and enjoy!_

* * *

~Chapter 1

"I do not see what you find so appealing about this maiden." Thor grumbles, his arms crossed. "All she does is run about and scream like a dying animal."

"Awww, come on Thor. Have you never heard of Reality television before?" Tony asks with a cocky grin. "Teenagers live for this kinda stuff!"

The Asgardian shakes his head, muttering to himself, "Why thine people would enjoy such a thing is beyond me."

"Hey, give that back!" Tony yelps as Bruce Banner struts in, snatching the remote out of Tony's hand before he has a chance to react.

Bruce plops down on the leather couch and changes the channel to a much more interesting show.

"NCIS?" Tony whines. "That's such a girly show, Banner!"

"At least it has plotline," Bruce shoots back. "It's a new episode, so shut up. I want to know what happened to Gibbs."

"Don't tell me you're going after Gibbs too now? Pepper has an unnatural love for him." Tony frowns, a thoughtful looks clouding his features as he recalls Pepper swooning over the silver haired fox during an NCIS marathon. "I ought to do something about that Mark Harmon guy." Tony shakes his head as if to clear those thoughts and then stands up, towering over Bruce and cracking his knuckles.

"Either way, I want my remote. Give it back."

Bruce stands up. "I don't think you want to anger me." He glares at Tony. "And besides," He continues with a snarky smile, "I thought you didn't like being handed things."

When Hawkeye walks in, he almost wishes he hadn't come up to see what everyone was doing.

On the floor, Tony and Bruce wrestled, Thor standing over them as if he were the referee, the fought over remote lying forgotten on the couch.

No one seems to notice Clint's entrance, so he clears his throat.

They ignore him and keep fighting like children.

"Hey!" He shouts, momentarily losing his cool. Hawkeye is feeling rather irritable, much to his distaste. It must be because of the recent mission his partner had been sent on alone. He knows Natasha can take care of herself, but it still feels odd not to have her beside him, watching his back while he watched hers.

The men freeze to look at the angered Hawk.

"Well, someone woke up on the wrong side of the nest," Tony comments breathlessly, just as irking as ever.

Bruce manages when last hit to get Tony off him and rolls away, claiming the remote once more as his own with a triumphant smile.

"Can it, metal boy." Hawkeye replies acidically. "Anyone see Steve recently? Pepper told me he had something important to tell me." Indeed, Pepper had come across the Hawk earlier, telling him a quick passing moment that Steve had something to tell him. He couldn't find the Captain in Stark Tower, and hoped someone might be able to help.

Thor grabs Tony by the collar of his shirt and easily brings him to his feet.

"I believe I saw him leaving today hastily, out to go meet with Fury, methinks." Thor tells him.

"Thanks, Thor." He says with a sigh. He is starting to get headache already, and it's only eleven in the morning. "The rest of these idiots are kind of useless."

Thor nods in understanding. 'Any word of the maiden Widow?"

"No," The two walk toward the elevator together. "But she's only been gone a week. I'm sure she's fine." Clint jams a thumb into the down button.

"You do not seem very sure of thyself." Thor observes.

Hawkeye shrugs and plays it off. "She's my partner. Got used to having her around. I know she can protect herself, but it feels odd not to watch out for her."

"So you are worried?"

He smirks. "I wouldn't say that. Just mildly concerned. She hasn't been on a solo op for a while. She's probably gotten rusty."

Thor doesn't exactly know what corroding metal has to do with anything, but he says anyway, "I do not believe your maiden would be unable to function without thy presence."

"I know." The elevator arrives and the doors open with a ding. Clint steps in.

Thor moves to turn away but is stopped when Clint calls out, "Hey."

Clint leans against the wall of the elevator. "She's not _my _maiden."

Thor smiles as the doors close.

"Indeed, she is." Thor says to no one.

*(*)*

As tall as Stark Tower is, Hawkeye begins thinking he ought to carry a book with him for the elevator.

It takes nearly ten minutes for him to get to lobby from the top level, and that ten minutes could not have been more boring.

He breathes a sigh of relief when the doors slide open with a reassuring chime and he steps out into the lobby—and right into Captain America.

Steve isn't even slightly jarred by the run in, but Hawkeye stumbles back. "Whoa, heya Cap." Then he remembers what he had come downstairs for. "Oh Pepper said you wanted to tell me something?"

Steve frowns and thinks for a moment. "Oh right. Fury had an assignment for the Avengers."

"Really?What is it?' Clint asks as the captain pulls a file report.

"Well, it's mostly about going from place to place all over the country as sort of a moral boost for the people, guess you could say."

"Huh…" Clint stuck his hands in his pockets and frowned, somewhat disappointed.

"But… you're not going with us." Steve handed over the thicker of the two files. "Fury has you doing a different assignment, by yourself."

Now Hawkeye perks up as he accepts the manila folder, flipping through the pages in a quick overview.

His grimace returns when he sees the location he's being sent.

He stares at the picture of an old woman, the informative he would be seeking out. "Shouldn't be too bad." He says with a sigh.

"Good luck, Clint." Steve says solemnly, clapping the younger man on the back.

Clint gives a wry smile as he fingers the little destroyed computer chip that had been included in the report.

He says to himself softly, "From Russia with love."

* * *

name the last reference there and I'll give you a cookie, and maybe a snippet of the next chapter!

hahah i hope you liked it! and i'd like at least another two reviews before my next post, please?

REVIEWS ARE LOVE


	3. Chapter 2

_OMG! I was soooo surprised by all the amazing feedback! in only two days, this story has gotten over 1000 hits, 9 reviews, 9 favs, and 28 alerts! You guys are sooooo awesome! LOVE YOU ALL!_

* * *

~Chapter 2

Natasha is glad Fury knows when to keep his mouth shut. For once he had learned to let her go on a personal mission and not tell Clint about it. If he told Clint he'd already be out the door and coming to get her. As Clint had not showed up as of yet and she'd been stationary for more than a day, she took it as a sign that Fury hadn't told anyone where she was or what she was doing.

Truthfully, she'd always seen Fury as more of the fatherly figure she never really had, though she would never admit it if asked.

So was quite happy with the fact that he had decided to keep her secret and not tell Clint anything about the mission, no matter how likely it might be that things turn out badly.

As long as Clint is safe and far from Russia, she has no qualms with the one-eyed agent known as Nick Fury.

*(*)*

Hawkeye couldn't help the groan that escaped from his lips as he trudged through the snow.

Clint Barton is not unfamiliar with Russia during winter.

That was about his only advantage when it came to the barren popsicle known as Russia.

But during his last mission here, it had been known as the U.S.S.R, and it had not been so friendly.

Even so, he finds the people still to survive and untrusting of Americans such as himself, the food just as tasteless as ever, and the overwhelming sense of just _cold_ to be highly insufficient.

All in all, he fancies that other than the name, the place hasn't really changed all that much.

The most annoying thing he found, was the blinding snow glare and equally blinding snow storms hadn't changed even a bit.

He likes the initial cover the constant mountain blizzards provide, but they restrict him as well as they do his possible enemies.

Blind doesn't go over well with Hawkeye, as his name suggests. His sight is his most valued asset and his hearing comes close after. In the Russian storms he has practically neither.

This prospect only makes him miss the Black Widow even more.

Right now he really needed someone to watch his back and she isn't there with him.

He had gotten so used to having a partner that he might slip up and up in the hospital with a compromised body and a compromised mission.

So, he listens a little closer, watches more carefully for anyone that was out of place.

But even with all that Clint isn't expecting it when he gets hit on the head.

*(*)*

"Oh, hey Capsicle!" Tony calls as he sees none other than Steve Rogers a few days after they receive their orders. 'What's up? You seen Robin Hood? He sure has had his tights in a twist lately."

"Hawkeye is on a separate mission, Tony. I told the whole team yesterday," Steve says with a sigh, not really appreciating the name calling.

"What?"

Steve frowns. "Do you ever listen?"

"Depends." Tony admits, dropping the tools he had been using to tinker with some sort of technology. "Is it something important I should hear about."

"Well, if it concerns our teammate, then yes."

Tony waves off the whereabouts of Hawkeye as unimportant. "What's it matter to me where big bird makes his new nest?"

Steve honestly doesn't know what to say. But he's starting to get a little frustrated with Stark and his attitude toward the team.

He keeps his peace though, for the moment.

Tony would learn to appreciate the archer eventually, but Steve predicts it would only be once something really terrible happened.

It's times like this that Steve hates his habit of being right.

"Hi, Steve," Pepper calls as she walks in through one of the multiple doors. "Heard anything about Clint or Natasha yet?" She asks.

Steve really did like having Pepper around. Though he would never understand why she decided to fall for such an ignorant man like Stark, he was still happy for the lucky bastard who didn't deserve such a good girlfriend. He hoped Pepper would straighten Tony out some. He was certainly asking for it.

"No, I haven't." He replies, glad someone cared for their teammates other than him. "And Fury won't let us in on where they are either." Steve is beginning to wish he had peeked at the file he had given Barton. Maybe it would give them some insight. Steve was certain something didn't feel right about those two being on separate missions. Something seemed a little shady, and he hated it.

"I'm sure they're fine," Pepper assures him, handing a stack of blueprints over to an enthusiastic Tony.

"I know." Steve says lamely. "But I can't shake the feeling that something weird is going on under our noses."

*(*)*

In half a second, Hawkeye has an arrow nocked and pulled back, spinning a 180 to face his attacker.

He frowns. He couldn't see or hear anyone within a mile radius.

He glances up and smirks, realizing what had happened. To prove his theory, he runs a hand through his short hair and feels the icy cold of snow.

Hawkeye sighs. Russia didn't seem to like him much. Even the trees were trying their best to show he wasn't welcome by dropping snow on him.

Clint decides he ought to be a bit less high-strung, or he'll end up putting an arrow through the coal eye of Frosty the Snowman. If Natasha were here she would be laughing at him internally right now for overreacting.

But he's a spy, and firmly believes he has the right to overreact. When it comes down to it, over reacting is what keeps him alive most the time.

He'll just pay more attention to his surroundings, and he'll be fine. If that means shooting anything that twitches, then so be it as long as it keeps him from getting killed.

Natasha.

Now that Clint considers it, she had been acting a bit differently the entire week before she left. And she hadn't mentioned the assignment to him either, which was unlike her. Nat always told him if she was going on a mission, and especially when Barton wouldn't be coming along. She was less outspoken, and though she wasn't really one for words to begin with, she still trusted Clint enough to confide in him at least a little.

Her trust barriers still didn't reach that far out, other than him. He was hoping working with the team would change that, but it felt as if she were only becoming more like the secluded black widow she was named after.

_Crack_.

Clint freezes mid-step.

That wasn't snow.

* * *

_oh no, what's going to happen to clint? well, if he dies, we know that nat will bring him back from the dead to beat the crap out of him, so no worries about he dying XD_

_tell me what you think! I cherish reviews more than anything!_

_big thanks to anyone and everyone who reviewed, faved or added this to their alerts! you guys are the best!_

_REVIEWS ARE LOVE!_

_love,_

_gilraenstar_

_P.S. Chapters will get longer as the story progresses, promise!_


	4. Chapter 3

_i'm amazed by how much great feedback this is getting! it really means the world to me that so many people are taking an interest in my stuff!_

_Love you guys, and enjoy! It' a little longer than the last few! :D_

* * *

~Chapter 3

"What is this thing you call an 'oven'?" Thor questions curiously, peering at the contraption in front of him. After multiple times of breaking things, Tony had told him to ask Pepper about things he had no knowledge on before touching them.

Tony almost feels bad that he landed such a taxing job on Pepper, along with all the other work she had piled on top just from Stark Industries alone.

"It's for cooking, Thor." Pepper replies with a smile. "You know, almost like a campfire in a box," She says, trying to simplify it in a way he might understand. Thor isn't stupid by any means, but Pepper still feels as if she's explaining things to a child.

A large, very buff, very strong, and almost scary child- but a child nonetheless.

"Ahh… so one might roast a poptart in there, yes?"

"I'd say just use the toaster, but I think it might be broken." Pepper can't help but smirk. Though she wasn't fond of having to constantly replace things, she was always cheered up by the reaction supplied by Tony as one of his favorite gadgets was destroyed without a second thought.

"Indeed. The silvery contraption has toasted its last piece of sustenance—that was undoubtedly the most delectable 'bacon'." Thor says thoughtfully. "I do like this bacon."

"You made bacon in the toaster?" Tony says, eyes wide. Pepper can't tell if he's in awe or if he's horrified, but she still cracks a smile at the look on his face.

Thor nods, saying, "Before leaving, Clint was kind enough to tell me which piece of metal did what."

Now Pepper can clearly tell that Tony is horrified as she struggles not to laugh. Tony was getting what he deserved, and for once it wasn't coming from her. She would have to thank Clint when he came back.

"You remember when I made those fruit-filled beverages for all of the team."

Pepper is suddenly glad she didn't partake in that smoothie movie night.

"Clint had informed me to use this blending invention in the water spout." Thor seems proud that he knows his appliances, but Tony couldn't seem more terrified.

"You mean the garbage disposal…"

*(*)*

Something had told Clint he needed to run. And he needed to run _now_.

It's hard to run in snow, but Clint had lifted some snow boot prototypes from the tower, and they seemed to be doing a good job, as he wasn't sinking in more than an inch.

He hears them know, hiding up in the trees, using the thick branches and snow as a camouflage that was nearly perfect.

Clint swears to himself as bullets start flying. He shouldn't have let his thoughts about Tasha distract him. Now he was in a bit of a snag. He zigzags back and forth, shooting down whoever he saw as he moved quickly.

He ducks as a bolt from a crossbow whizzes over his head.

_Crossbows? Seriously?_ He thinks internally. They were just cramping his style now. Archaic weapons are his thing.

He stops behind a tree, breathing hard as he nocks another arrow and lets it fly quickly, then starts running again. The trees thickened a bit ahead right before the edge of the mountain, so if he got there-.

Pain slams into him and he very nearly falls forward with the force of it, and he knows someone got lucky and hit him right where his Kevlar ended. The bolt had buried itself probably an inch or more into his shoulder, not rendering it completely useless, but he would have trouble shooting his bow for a while.

He stumbles forward and gets behind cover again for a moment to assess the damage.

He hadn't been hit by a bullet, which was good, but instead by a bolt from a cross bow. It did less damage, but was just as painful.

Clint steels himself and grasps the arrow, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He tears it out with a swift movement, tossing the bolt aside as his head spins. He knows that leaving it there would decrease his chances of dying from blood loss, but if they were using crossbows, it's likely they had some sort of poison on them. He'd have a better chance facing blood loss than he would poison. He could fight against that. Poison is a whole different story.

But he had to keep running.

So run he would, even as he felt blood dripping down his back, and freezing a minute later. He'd run, and hope to the Gods there weren't more waiting for him there.

*(*)*

Natasha knows very well how to act around those that consider themselves noble.

Russia is a proud country, and its people acted as such, some in a bad way, some in a good way.

Here, she was amongst those who were mostly the bad type of pruod. The ignorant, self centered, I'm-better-than-you kind.

So she would swirl the contents of her wine goblet, and laugh at even the worst of jokes, hoping that her recently hair color change and dark makeup would keep anyone with a good memory from recognizing her face.

Times like these made her wish she had Clint next to her. They made a very convincing couple when they worked at it, and though Clint had barely any understanding of the Russian language, she valued his input on the conversations (though she had to translate for him most the time) to be helpful in getting information discretely.

But she is also glad Clint isn't with her. He would be put in danger, and though that is nothing new for him, she didn't want that kind of red on her ledger if he was hurt or killed. Not while she was trying her hardest to blot out the biggest contribution on it.

"Miss Aristov!"

That's her que.

*(*)*

Never in his life, was Hawkeye more than happy to climb a tree. Even though it tugged at his now burning wound, and made it hard for him to properly breath, he couldn't have enjoyed the feeling of being high up and away from his enemies more.

To seal the deal, he draws one last arrow, and with shaking hands, pulls back the string, aiming at the side of a smaller mountain as his pursuers kept running, following the blood trail he'd left.

He lets it loose, and it flies striahgt, buries itself in the snow.

It explodes and snow flies, as the balance is interrupted and snow tumbles down the mountain in a sizable avalanche.

Hawkeye watches as the snow consumes the men hungrily, burying them far deeper than they could dig themselves out.

He lets out a sigh as no new faces appear and decides it's safe for him to treat his injury.

Clint shrugs off his white, now stained red snow jacket, and sets it aside.

He had a first aid kit somewhere in his small satchel, and sets about digging to find it while the throbbing in his shoulder increases as the adrenaline wears off. He'd be feeling that in the morning, that's for sure.

He tears open a pack of pressure pads (another medical achievement produced by none other than Stark and Banner) and presses it on the still furiously bleeding wound. It had been medicated with some sort of drug with a long name to help fight any infection that might pop up while out in the field and a hospital is out of the question.

He lets out a breath as the pain increases despite the pain killers he popped half a second ago, and realizes just how drowsy he is.

But that's odd…he slept for nearly a full day in preparation for the hike up the mountain, and those pain killers never made him sleepy before.

A realization hits him and he manages to slur out one word.

"Damn."

* * *

_muahahahaha... i am so evil :D but alas, when I leave you with big cliffhangers, i'll give you some srt of way to get a cookie and todays challenge is...  
_

_Guess my favorite color on your first try and you get a sneak peek of what happens next! You only get one try, so choose wisely! it's not an off the wall color, but i change my fav a lot, so if you creeped on my profile yesterday, that's not right, because i never changed it on there XD_

_anyways, who else wants a smoothie made by Thor?  
I know Tony does (i be trolling)  
_

_right, so anyways, another big thanks to everyone who wrote me a review, added to favs or alerts, or is reading this right now! :D i love you all for your support, and if it keeps up, i can keep updating for you daily!  
_

_:D  
_

_love,  
_

_gilraenstar :D  
_

_P.S. don't forget to try your hand at guessing! but if you're anonymous, i can't get you a cookie (i'm sorry!) because there's no way for me to PM you so you can read it! D: sorry!  
_


	5. Chapter 4

_hi everyone, sadly no one correctly guessed my favorite color! a few people said purple, and a few said green, but alas! my favorite color is yellow my fair readers! (sorry, just had a thor moment.)_

_*smashes tea mug on floor* this drink is delicious! I shall have another!_

_anyways, good try you guys! enjoy this chapter!_

_and no, i still don't own the avengers..._

* * *

~Chapter 4

Irena was not expecting to see what she saw on her morning walk, and is surprised.

She had been told to expect the man known as Hawkeye, but she hadn't thought he would be so literal with the nickname.

She sees the young man sitting up in the tree as if he really is a Hawk, shivering violently in the cold and his breathing coming in quick gasps.

"Hello," She greets in Russian, standing in front of the tree, right in his view.

The Hawk jumps awake at the sound, hand reaching for his bow. He winces, and lets his hand drop, rubbing his shoulder blearily. "Who… are you?" He asks, his voice sounding rough and tired.

"A friend," She assures him, recognizing his use of English and changing to match it. He tenses as he stares at her, but seems to sense she is telling the truth and relaxes slightly.

"Good," He mumbles, eyes drifting shut. "Think you can…help me down?" He asks, still breathing as if he'd just run a marathon.

The older lady nods, and steps closer offering a wrinkled hand.

The Hawk throws down his bow to the snow first along with his bag and takes the offered hand, jumping down.

The movement makes Clint dizzy and he concentrates on an image of Natasha to try and keep from throwing up.

"You're wounded…" Irena says, her brow furrowing.

"Yeah," Clint says weakly, the world in front of him spinning. "Shit happens..."

For the second times that day, Clint falls to the darkness and leaves the world behind to fall into fevered dreams.

*(*)*

"Miss Aristov, I'd like you to meet my son, Pavel."

Natasha can feel her lips start to ache from her increasingly fake smile. "Good to meet you, Pavel," She says politely to the tall man in his twenties the older man named Andrei gestured to.

Of all the people she had run into at this little formal gathering, she was glad to have meet Andrei Chekhov. He was one of the better people in Russia—one that did not traffic guns, drugs, or any other kind of harmful thing. Of what she heard, he seemed to be an honest man, something she couldn't she had comes across before on any previous ops.

"And to meet you, Miss…?"

"Sonya," She supplies quickly. "Sonya Aristov."

Pavel takes her hand and kisses an act that would get even Clint punched in the face on the best of days.

"So, Miss Aristov, I hear you've been trying to find a link to the Black Widow program." Pavel says as if it were a normal conversation.

Natasha freezes for half a second, and then her training kicks in. "I'd heard of the program, yes," She says simply. "But I have little a clue what it involves."

Pavel smiles wryly. "You lie, Natasha Romanoff, but I admit you lie well."

_Shit. _Natasha swears desperately in every language she knows. She knows she's compromised. Hell, _beyond_ compromised. Clint would personally throttle her if she managed to get out of this one alive.

"The worry is plain on your face, but do not worry." Andrei says. "The Chekhov family has been aiding SHIELD's with it's intelligence for years. That is not going to change, my dear." Andrei seems trustworthy enough, and she had done extensive research on their family background. Though nothing stuck out as odd, Natasha knew she shouldn't trust them.

"Prove it." She says in English.

*(*)*

Irena is not familiar with wounds like his, but it did not seem to be complicated either.

It was a small hole in his shoulder about a centimeter or less in diameter, that still bled lightly. She knew it probably was infected, so she cleaned it out as best she could with a bit of vodka. However, she was familiar with the way the wound had become a nasty yellow/green and was swollen as if infected.

It is an uncommon poison used by those who could not get their hands on something more effective and for that, Irena is glad. If the Hawk had pulled the projectile out before too much of the poison had entered his blood stream, he had a good chance at surviving, as the poison was only effective in large amounts.

But he still isn't out of the woods yet.

Irena worried that the fever will get him before anything else. His temperature sat above 103 for far too long, and he became delirious, mumbling in French and other various languages about someone named Natasha.

Only after five hours does his temperature start to fall, and he slowly comes back to the world of the living.

Clint opens his eyes slowly, the constant ache in his shoulder having torn him from his hazy dreams.

He sees a small room around him, a little coffee table with an abandoned mug, a burning woodstove opposite of him.

He couldn't honestly remember for a moment what had transpired after he had passed out the first time, and he struggles to recall the person he had met for a brief moment prior to loosing conscience again.

"Good to see you are awake."

The voice caught him off guard, and he nearly jumps out of his own skin. "Umm…hi." He mumbles back, watching as the gray haired lady reclaims her mug of tea and sits in the rocking chair next to the wood stove.

"I'm Irena Tolstoy." She says with a small smile. "I'm glad the Hawk has finally arrived."

Clint's eyes go wide as his mind reels. _Irena Tolstoy…?_

He manages a lopsided grin. "SHIELDs told you I was coming?"

Irena nods. "I've got something important that they want, and they told me they'd be sending an archer." She smiles. "They never told me he would be a handsome archer, hwoever."

Clint chuckles and swings his legs around the side of the couch, really wanting to move around. He hates be being bed-ridden.

"I'd advise you don't try to stand." Irena warns him. "They poisoned whatever they shot you with-."

"It was a crossbow," Clint tells her, still moving as if to stand. He gets up, but his legs feel like jelly, and his crumples on the spot

She continues as if he hadn't fallen."—And the poison acts as a bit of a nuero-toxin until it's completely out of your system.

Clint allows himself a tiny 'ow,' and manages to drag himself back onto the couch while Irena watches, seeming somewhat amused.

He can feel sleep dragging his eyelids down once again, and he has just enough time to mutter, "'s not funny…"

*(*)*

"My ex-wife is a big supporter of the Avengers intiative. Ask her if I am trustworthy, and she will answer you truthfully." Andrei had said, handing her a small slip of paper with directions.

Natasha bites her lip as she arrives at the small home. It didn't look very threatening, or unsafe. She couldn't see any guards or people who might be there to kill her when she showed up, so she takes it as a good sign.

She knocks on the door quietly, quite aware it's probably close to one in the morning.

The door swings open, and Natasha's eyes go wide.

Clint stands there shakily with a gun held high, pointed right at her. He drops the gun to his side when he recognizes her.

"Tasha…?" He says slowly, doubtfully, as if he thinks he might be hallucinating.

Natasha takes in his weary form slowly.

He looks like he might collapse any second.

She steps forward and he sort of falls into her embrace like a weak kitten.

"Hi…" He mumbles.

Natasha notes how warm he feels and looks about the house for a sign of the woman she had been sent to talk to.

"Are you okay?" She asks Clint warily.

"Mmmmm… you smell pretty," He purrs into her hair.

_Okay…I'm guessing that's a no…_

* * *

_because delusional, wounded Hawkeye is about as fun as they come :D no doubt she'll beat the crap out of him when he's actually in his right mind :3_

_it's okay Hawky. she won't kill you...much._

_soooo yeah :)_

_name the show where the names Pavel and Andrei Chekov came from, and you get a sneak peek! (hint: think 60's scifi)_

_love you all, and another big thanks to everyone who's reviewed, added, or alerted!_

_lots of luv,_

_gilraenstar :)_


	6. Chapter 5

_enjoy this chapter! :) another big thanks to everyone who commented, faved and alerted on the last chapter! you guys make this story happen!_

_:D_

* * *

~Chapter 5

"Clint…" Natasha says, keeping her voice calm as he continues to tell her how nice she smells, amongst other things. She's supporting nearly all of his weight—and he's a heavy bastard too—so she can't move without fear him just falling over onto the ground.

"Hello, Natasha-."

She makes the choice in a split second, deciding to drop Clint and pull out a weapon.

Her gun is drawn and aimed before Clint even hits the floor.

"Owww…" He mumbles in a very un-spy like fashion. "Taaaaashaaaaa…" He moans childishly.

"No need for that here." The lady says kindly, a gentle smile covering her features.

"Irena…" Tasha says slowly, recognizing the woman. She had gathered information from her before, but never known she was married at one time.

Natasha slides her gun back into the holster at her thigh, and kneels next to the still floor bound Hawkeye, never taking her eyes off Irena as she helps him up and half carries drags him to the couch.

"He's been talking about you in his sleep, so I guess its good you showed up."

Natasha eyes Irena warily as she unconsciously runs her fingers through Clint's hair to comfort him. It works, and the archer stops his complaining, though he continues mumbling random things he likes about Natasha.

"I wasn't actually sent here to retrieve him." Natasha glances down at Clint when he makes a sound of pain, and she notices the gauze wrapped around his shoulder. Anger sparks in her eyes and her hands ache for the chance to beat the crap out of whoever had hurt her partner. "But he does look a little worse for wear."

"Why are you here then, if you don't mind my asking?" Irena cradles a cup of tea in her hands, holding it for warmth. "I'll start some more tea, while you explain."

"Thank you," Natasha says, concealing her sigh of relief. She was in need of a cup of tea. "Your ex-husband claims to be an ally of SHIELDs. He told me to visit you to confirm it…but he didn't tell me who you were."

Irena stares thoughtfully into her mug, as if admiring the deep color the tea presented.

"My husband is a good man, and I trust him, though our marriage didn't work out. But my son I am not so sure of."

"Pavel?" Tasha says, somewhat surprised. The young man couldn't be much older than eighteen, and his mother suspected him of something possibly malicious?

"Yes. I have no proof however, and the worry might be unfounded. But I'd feel more comfortable if you were wary of my son and his involvement."

Natasha manages a small smile. "Thank you." She glances down at Clint, who had fallen asleep while they talked. "And thank you for taking care of him as well."

Irena nods, her own lips curving up as she thinks about how he acted in his delirium. "He was a bit of a handful, but no worries. He should be fine by morning if I'm any judge."

"Do you know how he got hurt?"

"I'd assume someone attacked him while he was on his way here." Irena answers, biting her lip. "I found him perched in a tree when I went on my walk and figured he was from SHIELDs. He didn't speak Russian."

Natasha's smile grows a little. "He could never really get a grasp on it."

"His wound wasn't that bad, but the bolt that hit him was poisoned. He pulled it out before too much got into his system, but lost a good bit of blood in the process."

Again, her anger boils and threatens to reach the surface. She pushes it all back, instead being more rational about the situation. She really hadn't wanted to get Clint mixed up with her while she was in the middle of locating the last of the Black Widow program, but now he was here and very much so right in the middle of it. She would just have to make the best of the situation now.

"So, what do you propose I do?"

*(*)*

Clint feels like he's floating.

Like...on a cloud of jello? Maybe more like cotton candy. Yes, that makes much more sense...mmm...cotton candy. Natasha has shampoo that smells like cotton candy, and he loves it. God, he could really use Tasha now.

What sense is there in cotton candy if you can't share it with anyone?

The sharp feeling of pain in his shoulder tugs on his thoughts, making him wonder if had fallen asleep with his bow over his shoulder or something.

"- and his fever has come down a lot, so I think-."

"Tasha?" He tries to say. It comes out more like, "gahhhh..."

Natasha is instantly in his line of sight, her brows brought together in worry. "Any better today?"

Clint blinks blearily, not recalling anything past meeting Irena. "When did you get here?" He asks slowly. His mind is working in a whir, and goes automatically to the worst case scenario. "Are you okay? Were you compromised?"

He moves to sit up, but she places her hands firmly on his chest, and keeps him down. He finds with a bit of apprehension that he doesn't feel strong enough to push her off.

"I wasn't compromised. You were."

Clint thinks back, scratching at the two days growth on his chin. "Ah. Right."

"Think you can get up?" She asks gently. He's wary of her- she seems much too caring and kind. This isn't his Tasha.

"Yeah. I hurt my shoulder, not my legs," He tells her, rolling his eyes. he swings his legs around to the edge of he couch and stands up, albiet shaky, though this time he doesn't plummet to the floor.

"See, I'm fi-."

Natasha slaps him across the face as hard as she can, and he stumbles back, nearly loosing his delicate balance.

Clint presses his hand against his cheek, and winces. "I assume I deserved that?" He says in a tiny voice.

"You did." Natasha confirmed coldly.

* * *

_HI! sorry the chapters are so short XP thats about the only drawback that comes with my updating practically everyday- it keeps my brain from frying._

_anyways, some bad news- i won't be able to update for a week or two, because i'm in the middle of moving across the state to where my fathers new job is, and i wont have internet or computer for that long! I'M SORRY GUYS! i really am :( i tried not to leave on too big of a cliffy though, so maybe that makes up for it, yes?_

_I hope so, but i really am sorry that i have to leave you hanging for a while!_

_THANKS TO ALL MY SUPPORTERS! YOU GUYS ARE THE BEST!_

_( here's to hoping you all understand) love,_

_gilraenstar :)_

UPDATE! Okay guys! I officially have internet now! YAY! I rewrote a bit of this chapter, because i didn't really like how it turned out. XD anywho, I very very very rarely rewrite chapters after i have them posted, so I promise to never do it again! I think this is only like the second time I've ever done that XD anyways, enjoy! and i'm posting the next chapter, and it's uber long, so enjoy and don't forget to review!

_THANKS!_


	7. Chapter 6

_*cue fancy music* I am officially back everyone! YAY! let me just say now... I MISSED THE INTERNET SOOOO MUCH! *sobs in a corner and grows mushrooms* anyways, enough sobbing! I just wanted to thank you all so much for being patient with me! Moving has been really tough on me (just consult my poetry folder and you'll know why) and writing is really my only outlet for that kinda crap XD _

_important note!_

_PLEASE REREAD CHAPTER 5! i REWROTE SOME OF IT, SO READ IT AGAIN BEFORE PROCEEDING!_

_ahem :) thank you, and enjoy!_

~Chapter 6

Nick Fury had known that a certain Pepper Potts was in on the Avengers initiative and all it entailed, but he knew she was smart enough to stay out of, for the most part. They had talked for a long while on a few occasions on the welfare of the entire team and made quick friends, as if they had known each other for years.

He hadn't expected to get a very heated call from her one afternoon while he enjoyed his tar-like coffee from the break room and momentary silence.

"I want a handler." Pepper says simply.

Fury goes slack jawed for a moment, and then he answers slowly, "A handler isn't a babysitter, Pepper. They are for handling missions, and other things expressly concerned with their charges missions."

"They are a bunch of children, Nick." Pepper says seriously. "I can't stand the constant bickering, the messes they make—Thor I can understand, because he's not completely familiar with Earth, but… the things they do to get back at each other…"

"I can only imagine." Fury admits.

"No." Pepper replies, her voice cold. "No, you can't."

Fury can't help but be somewhat disturbed. "So what do you want me to do?"

"Just send someone who can get them under control."

Pepper Potts hangs up on Nick Fury without a second thought.

Nick lowers the phone, frowning. There were very few handlers that even bothered with just Clint and Natasha. Phil Coulson was a godsend, but ever since his death, he'd been wary of reassigning a handler to either Hawkeye or Black Widow. Add the rest of the Avengers into the mix and the person he sent would probably commit suicide at the first chance.

Fury sighs and starts punching in another number to call his last resort committee.

"_Hello?"_

"Beckett, you're on."

Rebecca Beckett stares upward toward the top of the building, trying to see if there was an end. If she stares long enough, maybe the top won't seem so far away.

She knows that Fury really had no choice in calling her for the job—the Avengers are a handful, but she's good at those kinds of things and Fury knows all too well also. Her lack of following the less needed protocols such as dress code and proper addressing of superiors made her somewhat of a legend amongst the newbies. She may not follow every order to a tee, but Fury had always admired her ability to get things done, even if it wasn't the most conventional way of doing things.

Becky pulls her green hoodie closer around herself to keep the cold air out and smirks as she walks in the front lobbie.

This was going to be fun.

*(*)*

"No." Clint says stubbornly, crossing his arms. He refrains from wincing, all too aware of the way it made his shoulder ache. The pain was a constant reminder of his screw up, and it annoyed him immensely.

"I'm not arguing with you. Once you ask her everything you need to, you're going back." Natasha kicks at the pure white snow, watching as more flurries floated down to the already covered ground. They had decided to take a short walk around the property Irena owned near the top of the mountain.

"Nat, there is no way I'm leaving you in the heart of the Motherland _alone._"

Natasha snorts. "Yes, well you certainly proved you can take care of yourself. You are the expert after all." She notices how much he bristles at the statement, but doesn't really care at the moment. She just wants him out of Russia and back home safely where he can heal without worry. "Was getting shot part of the plan?"

"That is low, Tasha. Very low." He growls, glaring at the redhead.

Natasha cracks a smile, on a roll now. "I think you're just mad because they stole your thunder by using out of date weaponry."

"Hey, my arrows are just as good as any bullet, if not better!" Hawkeye tries to convince her. He eyes her funny. "What's up with you? It's like you're trying to start a fight or something"

Natasha steps closer to Clint, her head tilted to stare him in the eye. "Don't know. What's up with _you?_" She questions, peering into his soul.

Clint doesn't know what to do. Nat likes her personal space, and now here she is, practically an inch away.

Okay, she's not that close, but the aura she was giving off almost made him dizzy.

All of a sudden, the world spins, and he's flat on his back, Natasha looking down at him with slight disinterest.

"Did you just faint?" She asks.

"Guess so…I'm on the ground, but I wasn't a second ago." He mumbles, his head still spinning from his quick descent.

Nat offers him and hand and he takes it, letting her help pull him to his feet.

"You probably lost a good bit of blood when you got hurt." Natasha says simply. "Can you walk?"

Clint just nods numbly.

Blood loss. Right.

"I've already called SHIELDs and told them to expect you back, so you're leaving in the morning."

"No. Only if you come with me." Clint repeats, leaning against a snowy tree trunk in case he decides to fall over again. "What are you doing here anyways? Fury never said anything. And you didn't tell me you were leaving."

"I don't have to tell you everything." Nat says, snapping at him.

"No. But partners shouldn't keep secrets. What are you doing here, Natasha?"

The way he says her name instantly makes her feel guilty, and she wants to tell him, but thinks better of it, wiping those emotions and thoughts clean from the blackboard of her mind.

She bites her lip, but finally says, "If I go back with you, will you stop asking?"

Clint stays silent, his eyes unreadable.

"Fine, Nat." He says after a long pause, sounding tired. "I'll trust you."

Natasha can't help but feel hurt by the hidden text in his words.

_I'll trust you, even though you don't trust me enough to tell me._

*(*)*

"That's it, you're going down!" Tony roars, stomping over to Banner. "I don't care how green you may get, I'm going to beat you in this stupid contest!"

"What contest?" Pepper asks, fearful of the answer.

Bruce sits on the couch, arms crossed. "Tony apparently started an all out prank war between us after I got a blue dye bomb to go off in his suit." He smirks. "He looked like a smurf. Sorry you didn't get to see it, Pepper."

Pepper can't help but giggle at the thought. Her giggles dissolve when Tony goes into serious mode again.

"Shut up! I hate that show! And why is there only one woman smurf?! It makes no sense!"

"Mrs. Potts, someone from SHIELDs is here." Jarvis says, breaking into the conversation. "Shall I let her in?"

"Yes, Jarvis." Pepper replies. "Thank you." She glares at the two fighting Avengers. "_Behave_." She hisses.

The elevator doors open, and Pepper walks forward to greet the woman.

She wasn't overly tall, only about fight 5' 5" with waist length black hair and striking green eyes.

"You're with SHIELDs?" Tony says, not believing it. She looked incredibly normal with her casual attire, and nothing like the people Fury usually sends.

She nods and sticks her hand out to Tony. "Rebecca Beckett. Call me Becky."

Tony stares at the offered hand, as if unsure what to do. Banner stands and shakes her hand instead. "I'm Bruce. Bruce Banner. Nice to meet you…but may I ask why you're here?"

Tony just drops into a seat, taking a swig of water from his glass that had been momentarily forgotten on the table.

Becky smiles. "I'm the Avengers' official handler."

Tony spits water in Bruce's face.

"Aw, Hell no!"

*(*)*

"I do not understand why you dislike the young maiden," Thor says to an upset Tony, sounding confused. "She is kind, yet unyielding, as are the great women of Asgard!"

"Aw, thanks Thor!" Becky says brightly, happy to have been compared to Asgardian women.

"Yeah. Quit being such a jerk to the lady." Steve says, not liking the way Tony glared at her.

"Shut up Capsicle." Tony shoots back.

Bruce snorts. "You're just mad cause she took away your snacks."

"You're damn right I am." Tony grumbles. "This is my house! Why can't I have snacks when I want, especially since I bought them!"

"You only bought 12% of them!" Pepper calls from the other room.

Tony groans. "Now Pepper is against me too!" He glares at everyone around him. "Thanks a lot guys. I know you're jealous that I have such a great girlfriend and all but that doesn't-."

Becky slaps Tony on the back of the head. "Quiet. You'll wake the neighbors."

"Hello, earth to crazy lady." He waves wildly all around them. "We are in a skyscraper."

"Good for you!" Becky smirks, "Now who wants to make dinner?"

No one raises their hand. She sighs. "I can't cook worth a crap…but…" She grins evilly. "Thor can help me with everything!"

Thor is standing in a flash. "We shall prepare a glorious feast in honor of this fine maiden!"

*(*)*

"This computer chip." Clint says, holding up the little bag of evidence. "You say you know who manufactured it?"

Irena nods. "A very ambitious man by the name of Kevin Montague. He came to Russia about two years ago as an ambassador. When he was suspected of leaking sensitive information, he was released."

"My guess is he actually was leaking information?" Natasha says dully.

"Yes. And he still is."

"Through this chip?" Clint frowns at the tiny hunk of metal. Could something this small really be worth so much? If it held much sought after information, he supposes so.

"Yes. Very easy to produce, and very easy to sell to the highest bidder."

Hawkeye sighs and stuffs the chip back into a pocket in his vest. "Thanks. You've been a big help, Irena."

Irena smiles as the two get up and gather their things as they prepare for the flight home.

"Also…"

"Yes?" Irena asks, taking a sip of her tea.

"Do you know what's programmed into this thing?" Clint asks, throwing his bag over his good shoulder.

"All I know is it could be a threat to your homeland security."

"A big threat?" Natasha asks, almost fearful of the answer.

"A very big threat." Irena confirms.

"And Tasha." Irena calls after her. Natasha tells Clint to go on without her for a bit.

"Yes?"  
Irena holds out a small envelope. " My ex is holding a ball a week from tomorrow. He is expecting you to attend."

Nat accepts the envelope, and opens it, staring at the fancy Russian calligraphy that told her she was invited to the Chekhov Noble Ball.

"I'll be there."

*(*)*

Very rarely did the spies travel by anything fancier than a cargo plane.

Economy is a nice change for the two, though Clint could've done without the little girl behind him screaming and kicking his chair.

He stares out the window beside Tasha, wondering what she had been doing in Russia as the snowy mountain caps grow smaller and smaller and finds sleep weighs heavy on his thoughts.

Clint never knows when his next chance to sleep might be so, he slides farther into his chair and crosses his arms over his chest, closing his eyes.

Hawkeye is out cold in half a moment.

Natasha really isn't sure when Clint had managed to wilt to his right and come to be sleeping her shoulder.

She doesn't want to wake him, as he knows he has a right to being tired and sleeping off the already boring flight, but she can't shake the feeling that something is different.

They had slept in very tight spaces before, one time having to stay knotted together underneath an office desk all night while waiting for a paper to be slipped under the door, but it hadn't been awkward or uncomfortable like it is now. She lets him sleep though, and decides to wake him when they get there.

He looks so calm, his breathing slow and rhythmic, the stress and tension dissolving from his expression. Nat knows that all the worries and anxiety will return as soon as he opens those beautiful grey-blue eyes.

"What're you staring at, Tasha?" Clint asks tiredly, his lips barely moving.

Natasha nearly jumps, and then forces herself to look the other way. Her partner hadn't even opened his eyes and he knew she was staring.

"You fell asleep on me." She states, clearly avoiding the question.

Now Clint opens his eyes wearily, sitting up straight and stretching before letting out a jaw-cracking yawn. "Sorry bout that."

"I was going to wake you when we got there," She tells him, straightening her shirt.

"It's okay. We're not over ocean anymore, so we must be close."

She doesn't reply.

"Something wrong?" Clint asks, picking up her mood in an instant.

"No, I was just thinking." She grimaces. "Stark crossed my mind."

Clint can't suppress a groan. "Oh, gods, I forgot about them… Ugh, if there is one thing I miss about Russia it's how far you are from your neighbors. It's so _quiet_ there."

Again, Natasha is silent.

He frowns at her, feeling as if something was wrong and it was because of something he had done. "Are you sure something isn't wrong here?"

"I'm sure."

Clint's frown deepens but he just stares ahead, not knowing what to say to the very reclusive Black Widow.

* * *

_thanks for reading and one more thing before you all leave!_

_My goal is to get at least one hundred reviews on this story! only you guys can make that happen! So, if you added this to your alerts or favorties, all i'm asking for is one measely review! It doesn't have to be indepth as to why you liked it- it could just be a smiley face or you saying that you like it ( or hate it if you're that kind of person XD)_

_anyways, just one review from each of you would make my day, even if you're trolling!_

_Thanks so much for understanding that real life can get in the way, and thank you for reviewing if you decide to so :D_

_much more love than letters can give,_

_gilraenstar :3_

_P.S. This chapter is dedicated to Dreamcollector :) The girl who lends me her heart when mine is broken :)_


	8. Chapter 7

_HI everyone! :) thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter! hope you enjoy this chapter!_

* * *

~Chapter 7

"Thor, I'm pretty sure the pancake batter isn't poured in a muffin tin and put in the dishwasher to be cooked."

"I believed it to be the fire-in-a-box." says the blonde man, donning a pink apron so as not to get food on his armor.

"The oven is this one, Thor." Becky says, pointing to the correct appliance. "And you can't put donuts, bacon, and five poptarts still in the wrapper in the toaster all at the same time."

Becky can faintly hear Tony wailing about something in the other room, but ignores it.

"Okay, forget the pancakes. We'll just make some omelets." Becky sighs and raids the fridge, pulling out the egg carton and holding it out.

The Asgardian accepts the eggs, but seems unsure what to do with them. Becky notices this and tells him to crack the eggs in a bowl and beat them.

Thor laughs manically, and adopts what one might consider fighting stance, looking ridiculous in his pink frilly apron. "I shall beat these eggs like you will not believe!" He roars.

Rebecca Beckett laughs nervously as Thor throws the eggs (shell and all) into the glass bowl and starts punching them with bare fists.

Maybe she should have asked Bruce to help.

"What are you doing to my poor kitchen?" Tony yells, sounding destroyed—as if he had given up on dinner and the survival of his kitchen altogether.

"…remodeling?" Becky offers.

Clint takes in a deep breath and smirks at the smokey smell. "Ah, a bonfire." He turns to Natasha. "What a great way for them to welcome us home. Thor must be cooking."

She ignores his humor, like usual. "We should have Bruce take a look at your shoulder before you go brooding on the roof."

"I wasn't gonna go brood on the roof!" He protests as they walk into living room of the top floor. "It's going to rain soon. Did you see how dark the clouds were?"

"Where is everyone?" Natasha mutters, noting the absence of the normal noise. No one lounges in the living room like usual.

"In here!" A female voice calls. "In the kitchen!" Hawkeye freezes, his eyes wide.

"What is it?" Natasha asks, noticing how Clint had tensed.

He doesn't reply as they warily walk in the kitchen.

It's a bit of a wreck with black burn marks on the wall next to charred mass that had once been a toaster, dishwasher soap spilled all over the floor, and the oven being cleaned by Tony Stark while Banner tried to shove him in and close it.

"Welcome home!" The girl says, her hair tied back as she cleaned, and Thor grumbled as he poked at the remains of his favorite appliance. "I'm Becky Beckett."

"You must be Natasha, and…" She beams at the Hawk. "Good to see you again, Clint!"

"Beckett." He grumbles. The two had more history as partners than he would care to admit. "Don't tell me you're…"

"Your new handler." Becky confirms as she wipes her hands off on a dish towel.

They walk back into the living room to talk, leaving the other Avengers to do the cleaning.

"You know each other?" Nat says, genuinely surprised.

"Yeah," Clint says brushing her off. "Long story." He was focused on the new girl.

Natasha doesn't like her already. She looks away from the woman and out toward the large glass wall, watching as a heavy rain starts to pelt the glass and slides down.

"Fury sent you?" He questions, eyes hard.

"Pepper requested me. You boys are killing that poor woman with your antics." She tells them seriously. "You need to stop acting like five year olds, so Fury sent me over to handle things—literally."

"So you're Phil's replacement."

_Slap._

Natasha takes in a quick breath. Beckett had slapped her partner.

No one can hit Clint except for Tasha.

"No one can replace him." Becky says shakily. "If you even think…" Her voice wavers and she lowers her hand, turning away from the stricken Hawkeye back toward the door to the kitchen.

"I brought my cello. I'll play for everyone later, if you'd like." She says softly, through the crack in the door. "I know that you like that one piece…the suite."

Clint just turns on his heel and stalks away, not saying a word to Natasha prior to going outside to brood on the roof in the rain.

*(*)*

The Hawk can't honestly say he didn't deserve to be slapped like that.

He was out of line when he said Beckett was a replacement for Phil—both were very good friends with Coulson and considered him irreplaceable, but Clint didn't want another handler.

Especially not Rebecca Lynn Beckett.

Stark hadn't been exactly right when he said that Phil had left a cellist behind —he had, but Beckett wasn't his girlfriend. They were best friends, and had worked on more than a few ops together.

But she reminded him too much of Phil, and Phil was one thing Clint didn't want to think about right now. He still feels far too responsible for all the heartache the entire section went through.

He doesn't hate Becky.

He just can't face her knowing he's the reason her best friend is dead.

"You're going get sick if you stay out here all night."

Clint turns his head to see Pepper standing next to him. She takes a seat on the edge of the roof, something that would scare most people half to death. Yet she was comfortable with letting her legs dangle over the edge of a most definitely deadly height if one were to fall.

"I'm fine." He says simply, twiddling his thumbs. The cold feels nice. It's like a wake up call.

He really needs a wake up call too.

"You may have the others fooled, but you really have Natasha and I worried." Pepper tells him, her eyes telling him she wasn't kidding.

He still raises an eyebrow when she adds Natasha in the worry equation though.

Pepper rolls her eyes and snorts when he does this. "She might not openly show it, but she really is worried."

Clint just sighs, shaking his head in frustration. "I'm fine." He says, exasperated. He really doesn't want a pep talk from Pepper right now—he would jump off the building if he had a grappling arrow with him.

But Natasha had taken it, like she always does when he hurts his shoulder.

Clint glances down, looking all the way to the street below.

"Jump and I'll kill you." Pepper says coldly.

He lets out a nervous chuckle. "Okay, I'm not that stupid."

Now it's Pepper's turn to be exasperated. "Clint, I know something is weighing on you… I can't ask about any of your missions because they're confidential…but I get the feeling this isn't about a mission."

He knows he can trust Pepper. He knows she's not a bad guy, and he knows she won't tell Stark a word no matter what.

He feels like a hypocrite; wishing that Natasha could trust the team more, when he can't even tell Pepper what's on his mind.

Or maybe he just doesn't know whats bothering him at all.

"You don't have to tell me anything…" She sounds a little disappointed, but continues on. "But I'll be here if you do want to talk."

Pepper gets up to go back inside—she's soaked too now.

"Hey…"

She turns around to face the Hawkeye.

"Thanks." Clint says simply.

Pepper just smiles. "You're welcome… so will you come inside now?"

He nods and gets to his feet, rolling his aching shoulder with a wince. The rain didn't help the injury much. Just made it painful to move.

"I didn't know you were hurt." Pepper says, her smile dissolving into that same worried frown she had on moments before. "You should have Bruce look at it."

"Natasha will drag me there as soon as she sees me. She's probably mad." Clint sighs as the walk in, soaked to the bone and dripping water.

"Not mad." Pepper corrects. "Worried."

"Clint." Speak of the devil and she shall appear.

He can't help it—he jumps.

Natasha is damn scary when she's mad—or rather —_worried_.

"Hey." He says, unable to cover just how badly she had surprised him. He was tired damn it. Can't be alert every single minute like Tasha somehow is. "What's up?"

Natasha grabs him by the left arm—the one that still hurt like hell and starts dragging him.

"Ow,ow, ow, _Tasha._" He grinds out. "Easy tiger. That still hurts."

Tasha huffs and lets go of his left arm, instead dragging him by the right. "Sorry," She mutters, honestly seeming sorry.

Clint's eyes go wide and he looks back toward Pepper.

Was she right?

Was Tasha actually, honest gods worried about him?

* * *

_So, what'd ya think?_

_oh i nearly forgot! I started a little side fanfiction that i'll work on when i'm not busy with this one (which i won't be for a while because i'm very ahead on it) _

_Anyways, it's called Collecting Memories, and it's very interactive (you'll see what i mean if you go read it), so go check it out if you'd like! No obligations of course!_

_love,_

_gilraenstar :)_


	9. Chapter 8

_Okay, so first things first! Thanks a lot to everyone who reviewed ^^ _

_second, a lot of you seem really mad at me for introducing my oc into the story. I can understand that a lot of you dont like oc's mixing with existing characters, but I didn't just throw her in there for the heck of it XD someone said she seems like a mary sue, as well- and well yeah, that was kind of the idea. Shes supposed to SEEM like a mary sue character. i'm not forcing anyone to continue reading this- you can take it off your alerts if you want- i'm just saying that you can't automatically dismiss my oc, when you don't have the full back story and reason behind why she is there._

_So, please, give Becky a chance :) if you don't like her, then i guess I'll see you later :) I told you at the beggining that even the hate reviews are allowed, and i wont go back on that, but sometimes i get a little frustrated with my writing too, and i will admit, i was a little discouraged. but i asked for it, so it's no ones fault but my own, and i'm not blaming anyone, or telling them to get the hell out. i'll keep posting, because i'd like to believe there are a few people who still enjoy this fic at least a little :)_

_anywho, sorry for the rant XD! hope you enjoy!_

* * *

~Chapter 8

"What is this intricate piece of wood for?" Thor asks inquisitively, giving the music instrument an odd look.

"It's a cello. For making music." Beckett drags the horse hair bow across all four strings in turn, the notes deep and ringing.

"It is marvelous!" Thor exclaims, in awe of the sound it created. "We have something of the sort back on Asgard, but the sound is not nearly so wonderful."

Becky can't help but laugh. "I am glad you like it." She goes through several sets of scales as warm ups and plays songs she has in her memorized music storage, from Row, Row, Row Your Boat all the way to Waltz No. 2.

"Hey, I didn't know you played cello…" Tony says as he comes in, plopping down on the couch opposite of the handler. Something clicks in Tony's mind. "Wait a minute… were you Coulson's cellist?"

The note she plays turns sour. "I was not his cellist. We were good friends, that's all." She stiffly informs the insensitive genius.

Tony starts rambling on again, unfazed by the mood change. "So, you're just a handler, right? Then why are with us like, all the time?"

"Because I was ordered to be here constantly." She answers. "Fury sent me here because Pepper was slowly going crazy thanks to you guys."

Tony waves a hand. "Nah, Pepper loves me!" He gestures toward the other as if they're lesser beings. "It's those people over there that are problem children."

"How much are they paying you?" Bruce asks Becky incredulously.

"Not enough." Clint answers for her.

"Oh, hey Robin!" Tony calls as he sees Hawkeye arriving, drying his hair with a towel. "How was nesting in the rain? Did Batman tell you to come back in?"

"No. Pepper was with me though, and she told me to come back in." Clint replies with a lopsided grin. Becky can tell he hasn't bounced back completely from their earlier encounter, but he's clearly covering it up with the delicacy and fake smile all spies had learned to use. She had seen that fake smile more than enough to spot it easily. "Said she missed me."

Tony freezes. "No way. She didn't miss you. You're just saying that!" He pouts. "He's just saying that." Tony assures Beckett. "Pepper is into the genius type. Not the weirdo type."

"Funny how she picked you seeing as how you're more in the second category." Clint mumbles into a pillow, sprawling across the entire couch, lying face down. He's still wiped out from the trip back.

"Yeah, well you're stupid." Tony says, crossing his arms.

"Jeez, Pepper wasn't kidding when she said you guys were like five year olds." Becky says under her breath. "Anyways, where are Steve and Bruce? And Natasha too."

"Tasha isn't coming." Clint says, lifting one hand lazily and then just letting it drop as if the effort proved to be too much. "She's not a fan of music as far as I know." That was a lie—Clint had learned of their years as partner that music was one of Nat's few passions. But he also knows she's not really a fan of Beckett.

"Steve is with Fury, I think… And Bruce said he getting a tetanus shot or whatever ready for the bird with a broken wing." Tony finishes.

"You must perform for us, Lady Beckett!" Thor demands, about to hurtle his mug to the floor. He stops himself last second, and calmly sets it on the table as softly as he can.

"We'll wait for them first," Becky tells Thor. "Then I'll play."

"With haste, green one!" Thor roars at Banner as he approaches from the elevator.

When Clint sees the hypodermic needle that Bruce holds, he instantly feels queasy. After Natasha had forced him to visit the team doctor, Bruce had deemed it necessary to create a drug cocktail to make certain the poison would have no lasting effects. Clint isn't afraid of needles, but he's not exactly a fan either.  
"You're left handed, so give me you're right." He says as Clint sits up, offering the arm Banner asks for.

He disinfects a small spot in the crook of his elbow before pressing the needle into the muscle with a small pricking sensation.

"Afraid of a little needle, Stark?" Banner asks, noting the way Tony had turned away as soon as the needle was in sight.

"No." Tony replies with a snort. "I can deal with blood. I've probably killed more people than Big Bird over there."

Clint looks at Tony solemnly. "I can guarantee that's not true, and besides, that's not something to be proud of." He says truthfully.

"For an assassin, you sure seem pretty merciful. First you let Natasha walk with a free ticket and then-."  
"Those were completely different circumstances." Clint says, his voice clipped. "Don't talk about things you don't have the full story on."

"You wanna tell us the story then?" Tony asks, hopeful. He wants more insight on the two spies, but he's too lazy to break into their personal files, and knows Fury would have a fit.

"No."

"You're no fun. Oh! I know!" Tony brightens up as he comes up with what he believes to be a great idea. "Let's have a contest, since Brucey B. and I are in one! Whoever brings down the most bad guys in our next big fight, wins, and the loser has to pay for all the broken appliances for a month."

Clint rolls his eyes. "Whatever."

"Never call me that again." Bruce tells the excited Stark.

"Hey, everyone," Steve calls from across the room.

Steve Rogers arrives via elevator with yet another manila folder in hand. "This is for you," He hands it to Becky, who accepts with a smile and polite thank you.

"Don't tell me Fury wants us to leave on our 'Love the Country' campaign a week early." Tony groans as Beckett looks through the folder, her frown growing in place of the normally happy expression.

"No," She mumbles, "He has that postponed for now it seems…"

"What's wrong?" Bruce asks, noticing the glare she gave to the somehow despicable files.

She drops the file on the coffee table and sets her cello down carefully, patting down her pockets as she looks for her phone. She finds it and flips it open with an angry noise. "Be right back. Need to make a call." is the only explanation Beckett gives, and a poor one at that.

After the coast is clear, Tony gets up and grabs the abandoned papers, reading them over quickly.

"What is it?" Clint asks tiredly. He gets the feeling it might be something he isn't going to like.

Tony grimaces.

"Pysch Evaluation... for only three of us."

Clint groans. If he takes a Pysch test, he knows exactly what will happen. He'll be sidelined for a month or two, after answering one question wrong, just like after Budapest.

Damn, but that sucks.

*(*)*

"No."

"Beckett, you know as well as I do, Clint and Natasha have gotten out of these for the past two years. They need to be evaluated." Fury says into the phone, sighing. He knew she was going to give him trouble on this—he knew it.

"Then why did you through Stark into the bunch? He's probably one of the more emotionally stable people on the entire team!"

"Bruce, Thor and Steve already did the test and passed, albeit it was a bit close for certain people. They're the only ones who haven't taken it."

"Clint and Tasha aren't doing it. I may be the team handler, but I have to be the most careful with them specifically, and this is not good for their way of doing things."

"Their way of doing things nearly gets them killed on a daily basis."

"Only when you split them up." Beckett argues. "I don't want them taking that test Nick. I'm not sending them in."

"Why are you so adamant they get out of this?" Fury asks, exasperated.

"Because they'll fail."

Fury raises an eyebrow. That wasn't what he expected by a long shot. "They'll fail?"

"Oh, most definitely. The Avengers can't afford to be two down in a fight, and that's exactly what will happen. And I get the feeling you're planning something big for them Nick." Becky says. "You only have evals right before a big mission."

Nick sighs again, rubbing his eye. It's late and he's tired; he really isn't in the mood. "Send Stark in the morning then. Their exempt for now, but they will have to deal with this soon. Or there might not be a later."

"You're planning something big, aren't you?" She questions, worried that she had been right.

"I don't, Becky." Fury replies honestly. "But Natasha does."

* * *

_tell me what you think ^^_

_and don't forget to check out Collecting Memories if you get a chance :) No OC's in that one, promise :)_


	10. Chapter 9

_this chapter is a little short, so sorry about that, i'll see if i can make the next a bit longer to compensate :)_

_but i hope you like it anyways! :3_

_read, and tell me what you think :3_

* * *

~Chapter 9

After Fury hangs up, Becky takes a deep breath and snaps her phone shut.

When she walks back out to the living room, the boys all look up at her expectantly.

"Stark, in the morning you're going for a pysch eval."

"What?" Tony squeaks. "What about the others? They're supposed to come too!"

Becky looks toward Clint, who stares up at her expectantly. "They're exempt." She says simply.

Tony groans. "That is so not fair!"

Clint's expression had flickered for half a second then reverted back to indifference. He would have to thank her later. He isn't surprised that's she's acting like nothing had happened earlier, but things were still a bit awkward on his end.

"Clint, go ask Natasha if she wants to come up, okay?" Becky says. "I don't want her feeling left out."

Hawkeye sighs and stumbles to his feet like a slug, not wanting to get up.

"I'll be right back." He mutters.

When he arrives at Tasha's door, he knocks and waits for her to answer him.

"What?" She says coldly on the opposite side of the door.

"Can I come in?" He asks.

"No."

"Tasha…" He groans. "I said I was sorry! You can't seriously be mad at me."

Natasha laughs to herself, and Clint perks up at the sound he rarely hears. "I didn't say I was locking you out because I'm angry. I just got out of the shower."

"Ooh, I should definitely come in then." He growls suggestively.

"If you're fine with being killed slowly, go ahead and pick the lock on the door." Natasha threatens. "I dare you."

Clint quickly remembers his reason for coming down. "Beckett wanted to know if you'd like to come upstairs and listen to her play."

The door swings open wide and Natasha stands there, wrapped in a fluffy red robe. Her hair was still wet and she smelled lightly of lavender.

Clint had never seen a more gorgeous sight.

He flings those thoughts away and asks stupidly, "So, are you coming up?"

Tasha grabs him by his collar and drags him back into her room, kicking the door shut behind them.

"Natasha!" He yelps, his voice higher than normal due to surprise. Then he grins lopsidedly as she sits like a rock on the bed and pats the spot beside her for him to join her.

He sits next to her, and she starts what seems like a rant she had thought about before deciding to give it.

"I don't like that Beckett girl. She hit you." She says seriously.

Clint rolls his eyes. "Tasha, we both know what I said was a pretty douchebag thing to say. You can't say I didn't deserve that."

"I don't care. If she's our new handler, she shouldn't go around hitting you, that's all." _That's my job._ She adds silently

"It seems like that's not all of it," Clint says skeptically. Was this jealousy he sensed here?

"It's not." Natasha continues. "You know her already, through Couslon I'm guessing. But you never mentioned her?"

Hawkeye pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. "Natasha. You can't expect me to tell you every detail about every person I meet."

"Why not?" She asks. "We're partners."

His eyes narrow. "Then what were you doing in Russia?"

Natasha instantly clams up, her eyes widening. She stands and returns to the bathroom to comb out her dripping hair. "I won't be coming up." She says, prior to slamming the bathroom door shut in his face.

*(*)*

"She still mad?" Becky asks when she sees Clint collapse back on the couch, muttering obscenities under his breath.

"She wasn't. But then I made her mad again." He grumbles in reply. "Idiot." He hisses at himself.

"No wonder he doesn't have a girlfriend." Tony says thoughtfully. "Or maybe he is actually dating the Black Widow, and they decided to keep it a secret." Tony winks at Clint. "Don't worry. You'll probably have make-up sex, and then we'll know for sure in nine months when we have little spider hawks flying around making web-nests!"

Clint throws the closest thing he could reach- which happens to be a large hard back book and manages to hit Stark in the side of the head. Tony makes a funny sound and plops down to the ground, holding his head in hands in pain.

"Bruce, be a good doctor and tell him not to throw things because he'll hurt himself." Tony says to Banner, who sits next to Becky, being the only one listening to her practice.

"He used his right hand. So he's fine." Bruce replies, not really all that interested in the petty fight between the two.

"Ha. Now shut up and listen to her play."

*(*)*

Natasha can't deny that this Rebecca has some skill, at least in the music department.

She finds herself immersed in the deep rich tones of the cello as she hides in the shadow where no one watches. Not even Clint notices she's there.

She listens for maybe ten minutes before slinking away silently, almost sad to be leaving before the suite ended.

Natasha had wanted to make sure Clint was okay one last time before she headed back out to Russia.

She had also wanted to make sure Bruce had held up his end of the deal.

Natasha definitely owed him one for the magnificent use of some sort of sleeping drug mixed with a compatible antibiotic that would knock Clint out within twenty minutes and keep him sleeping for a full day.

That means she'll get a full days start on the Hawk before he would come after her.

And come after her Hawkeye would—

She was depending on it.

* * *

_guess the drink i always have while typing this fic before 2:00 tomorrow (august 11th), and i'll give you a snippet of the next chapter :3 (hint: it's not a cold drink :3)_

_reviews are love :)_


	11. Chapter 10

_so, unforunately, no one guessed correctly, with the exception of two guests (but i can't send you guys cookies, I'm sorry!)_

_My favorite drink while I type is hot tea :) and well, thats actually just my favorite thing to drink all in all. I drink probably around 5-7 cups of tea a day :) sometimes more XD_

_anywho, thanks for reviewing on that last chapter, and i hope this clears up a bit of confusion ;)_

_enjoy!_

* * *

~Chapter 10

Clint isn't sure what time it is when he awakens.

Light siphons through the blinds in bright strips, and Hawkeye decides that the light must have been what pulled him from pleasantly fuzzy dreams. He wants to go back to sleep, but he feels fully rested and ready to go, which is very rarely the case.

He sighs and slips out of bed, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands and let out a jaw cracking yawn. Clint moves to go over to the window, but trips on a discarded boot, falling to the floor like dead weight.

Natasha always made fun of him for being rather clumsy in the mornings when he didn't want to wake up.

He gets back to his feet, now fully awake by way of his face plant.

Clint gets back to his feet as his shoulder reminds him he's still not a hundred percent, and kicks the boot out of his way. He swears as he opens the blinds and the bright sunlight makes him see spots.

He grumbles to himself as he very grudgingly gets ready for the day, struggling to pull a shirt over his head and having problems tying his boots with one hand that didn't want to cooperate without causing pain.

When he finally catches a glimpse at the time on the clock beside his bed, he frowns. It's already one in the afternoon, and he just now is waking up.

"Hey, sleeping beauty!" Becky calls, smiling as he enters the kitchen. "Finally got Natasha to kiss you so you would wake up?"

"No." He replies shortly, grabbing a green apple from a basket of fruit on the counter. "She'd stab me in the eye before she'd kiss me." Clint tells her truthfully.

_What was it with everyone thinking we're in love? Just because we are partners, does not mean we are love interests. That would be stupid._ Clint thinks to himself acidly. He was getting sick of all the jokes made at Natasha's dispense. The fact that they were directed at him made him want to punch Stark in the face, even though he wasn't the one currently being an asshat.

"I doubt that." Becky says equally, as if she really meant it.

Clint just stares at her as if she had grown a third eye.

"Oh, so Big Bird finally decided to get out of bed?"

"Shut up, Stark." Clint says easily, taking a big bite out of his apple. He didn't realize how hungry he was till he finally tried eating. He felt like he hadn't eaten for days.

"How'd the pych eval go?" He asks Tony.

Tony makes a sound of exasperation. "Terrible! The rated me as being clinically sane."

"Well, that is a bit surprising," Clint admits. He certainly didn't think of Stark as being sane in any form.

"I know!" Tony replies, throwing his hands up in the air. "How many sane scientists do you know?"

Clint opens his mouth in order to tell him about quite a few, but Tony doesn't give him time.

"None!' He chirps. "Not one sane scientist in the history of amazing inventions!"

"Anyways…" Becky says slowly, ignoring Tony as he grumbles about the state of his sanity—or lack thereof. "Bruce told me to send you down to the lab once you woke up, said it was important."

"All right." Clint says, not moving from where he leaned against the doorframe, still munching happily on his apple.

"That means go." Becky tells him when she notes how still he stays.

"Now?" Clint says, pushing away from the wall, and standing straight.

"Yes, now." Becky says rolling her eyes. "He said it was important."

He sighs and throws out the rest of his apple, wiping his hands on his jeans. "Fine. Come get me in ten minutes. I need to do some training today."

"You're not allowed to train for another two weeks, mister!" Becky calls after him.

Clint pretends not to hear.

Becky sighs, saying under her breath, "Allrighty, then. I'll get you in ten minutes."

*(*)*

"Hellloooo?" Clint calls loudly. The lab Banner had setup was huge—it covered almost an entire floor, and he worried that if he strayed to far into the labyrinth he would get lost amongst all the bubbling test tubes and Tesla coils.

"You finally woke up?" Bruce pokes his head out from behind a large machine; one that Clint thought looked a bit scary.

"Umm…yeah…" He replies as Bruce springs into action.

"That's good. I checked on you a few times throughout all of yesterday and today, just to make sure you hadn't fallen into a comatose or some such." Bruce digs through his black medical bag, in search of something in particular.

When he pulls out a stethoscope and starts listening to Clint's heart, Hawkeye asks, "Did you call me down for a physical or something Doc? I got shot in the shoulder. Didn't have a heart attack."

"No, I know that. It's just you were asleep for longer than I had expected."

Clint senses a bit of trickery and acts on it. "What do you mean by that?" He questions, eyes narrowing.

"That little anti-biotic cocktail I gave you had a sedative in it." Bruce says dismissively.

"What? Why?" Clint growls, pushing the medical instrument away.

"You needed the sleep."

Clint could hear a lie miles away. "I can sleep perfectly fine on my own. I've only had practice every night." Of course, the times where he just lay there awake all night and nights he had woken in a cold sweat from nightmares (which would be most nights, but Banner didn't need to know that) were not included in that statement. "Explain. And tell the truth."

Banner looks down at his watch. "Natasha asked me to."

"What?!" Clint yells, pacing back and forth. "She told you to drug me?"

"Yes. And not tell you where she was going."

Hawkeye runs a hand through his hair and tries to slow his breathing, trying to regain his composure.

"Do you know where she's going?" He has a feeling he knows exactly where she is.

"Depends." Bruce replies, dropping everything back into his black bag and zipping it up. "You up to chasing after her?"

Clint finds himself unable to lie in the face of Bruce Banner. "No." He admits. He can fight without his bow, but hand to hand is something he'd rather avoid. Russian soldiers are very big on hand to hand if they are without a gun- obviously. And Clint can't honestly say he would hold up in a combat situation if he was fighting more than one person and found himself without a good weapon.

"Good. At least you know your limits." Banner says approvingly.

"Hey, you told me to come get you…so…" Becky pops in, hands in her pockets. "Here I am."

"I have to go get Tasha." He mumbles to himself, continuing to pace. "I know she'd be in Russia…but…"

"She already left?" Becky says flatly. She knew she was leaving, but she never expected she would leave behind Clint. "She left without you?"

"Yeah. Apparently I'm not allowed to keep her from getting herself killed." He snarls, angry at Nat for so blatantly putting herself in danger without backup.

"Tell me. Where did she say she was going?" Clint asks Bruce. "Please."

"All she told me was she was heading to Russia." Banner answers, unable to help much. He grimaces at Hawkeye, looking him up and down. "You're not going to get her by yourself…are you?"

"No." Becky replies. "He's not going alone."

"What, you offering yourself up, Beckett?" Clint asks, being bitterly sarcastic. "Last time I checked, you hung up the throwing knifes to become a normal agent."

Beckett smiles. "You don't miss your days partnered with me?"

"I miss the days where it was just Rebecca Beckett. The days where you were Phantom, I do not miss at all."

"Aww, I'm not that scary in uniform, am I?" Becky grins and the two head to the elevator, leaving a confused Banner behind in the dust.

"When you're being serious, yeah. You're pretty damn scary."

"Scary as Natasha?" She asks, still grinning like a fox.

Clint looks at her with critical eyes.

"Not as scary as Nat." He tells her truthfully. "But you're damn close."

* * *

_reviews are love :)_


	12. Chapter 11

_hope you enjoy, and tell me what you think! it's a bit longer than normal, so yay! :D_

* * *

~Chapter 11

They had suited up prior to leaving the tower, and everyone stared at Beckett as she walked out, flaunting black leather and high platform boots, two long jagged daggers hanging on each hip. Her hair, which had been down to her elbows before, had been cut short and pinned back to keep it out of her away. To the rest of the team, she looked like a completely different person. To Clint she looked like the Rebecca Beckett he knew. The Phantom that he had worked with.

"So, you think Fury knows where Tasha is?" Clint asks. The two, now with bags in the back of the car for the flight to Russia, took a quick detour, heading toward SHIELD headquaters.

"I know that he knows." Becky swerves to avoid side swiping a van as she passes. It's like she's playing Mariokart, racing ahead of everyone. Clint was just waiting for her to throw banana peels out the window.

"Why are you driving?" He asks. "I hate it when you drive."

"Yeah, yeah, shut up Obi-wan. At least I don't drive like an old lady." She twists the steering wheel sharply to the left, narrowly avoiding a biker.

"Well, _Anakin_," He hisses, catching the reference. "At least I don't nearly run over every person on the road. Why the hurry anyways?"

"When I was on the phone with Fury the other day, he said Natasha was planning something. Something big."

"Natasha isn't the type for flashy projects, Beck." He says, dredging up the old nickname he hadn't used in ages. "She's a trained spy. That isn't her style."

"No, but that seems to be the Avenger way of doing things, and Fury made it sound like before this thing ended all of the team would be involved."

"You think that might be why he sent you specifically?" He asks. Becky is their handler, yes, but she had just as much training as Clint. She could defend herself in a fight. As she put it, she had skills that shouldn't be ignored and besides—every other major city had a hero. Pittsburgh was in need of her talent.

She was good when SHIELD picked her up. They brought her skill to a whole new level.

Beckett was partnered with Clint for a year before she was badly wounded—both mentally and physically—during a mission. She benched herself, and became a specialized handler, supposedly hanging up her daggers for good.

"I don't know." Becky replies, pulling him from his thoughts. "Fury wanted me with the Avengers Initiative originally. I didn't accept the offer."

"Then why did you become our handler?" Clint asks, baffled. He had no idea Fury wanted Beckett to be an Avenger; that Fury regarded her so highly after she sidelined herself.

"Because. I missed it okay?" She grinds out.

"Missed what?"

"I missed being out in the field, all right!" Beckett half yells, slamming to a stop as they arrived at their location. She turns to face him, eyes burning. "I missed being able to help when my friends were in danger."

Suddenly Clint understands. "You feel guilty." He says, knowing it's true as the words escape him. "Becky, what happened to Phil wasn't your fault. You couldn't have helped him… I couldn't…"

"Let's go." She says shortly, turning away and out of the car before Clint can say another word.

He follows after Becky, letting the subject of Phil Coulson drop for the moment.

"We need to see Fury." Becky tells the lady at the front desk.

The girl was obviously new, judging from the way she eyed the two with slight disgust. "Do you have an appointment?" She asks, feigning politeness.

"Yeah." Beckett says. "Rebecca Beckett. My appointment is at three o' right freaking now." She hisses.

This is when Clint thinks she's scary.

"Tell him Phantom and Hawkeye are here." She demands.

The girl hurriedly picks up the phone with shaking hands, just now seeming to notice the bow across Clint's back and multiple daggers that Beckett had in plain sight.

Becky smiles, and says kindly, "Thank you."

*(*)*

"Beckett." Fury seems more than surprised when he sees her in her suit, and even more surprised that she had gone by Phantom at the front desk. "And Hawkeye. What brings you here? And more importantly, why does it look like you've readmitted yourself back into the field?" He asks, eyeing the silver blades at her hips.

"Because I have."  
"You two are going after Romanoff?" Fury says, his eye widening. "Beckett, out of everyone on the team, you decided that _you _would be the one to accompany him." His voice is approving yet disapproving at the same time.

"I don't know, Nick. Is that the best choice? Because I don't have all the details." She sets her hands on his desk and leans forward, staring Fury in the eye.

"She went to Russia. Looking for the rest of the Black Widow program."

Clint swears. "Fury, do you even know who left? Was she Natasha, or Natalia? If you let Natalia go, she's going to slaughter every last one of them, and you know it."

"Barton, back off. I know exactly who I sent and who she is and is not going to kill." Fury assures him. "Natasha didn't want you involved in this, Clint. She didn't want any of you involved."

"Yeah, well she's my damn partner, so she stuck with me whether she likes it or not!" Clint shouts. He was mad now. Mad at Natasha for not trusting him, for trying to protect him now when it didn't really seem like she gave a shit before.

He drops into a chair and holds his head in his hands, once again trying to regain his composure for the second time that day. Never had he gotten so upset over Natasha and her tricky antics. He was beyond worried for the Black Widow now. He was terrified, thinking he might never get to see her again unless he got there in time to haul her ass back to the tower and handcuff her to himself so she would never get out of his sight again.

"Where is she?" Clint asks quietly.

"Noble Ball, held at the Chekhov residence, south of Kiev. She's been going by the name of Sonya Aristov."

"Thank you." Becky says, breathing a sigh of relief. She drags Clint to his feet and the two are gone in a second.

Fury just shakes his head.

This job is going to dig him an early grave. A very early grave.

*(*)*

"Ah. Russia." Becky says, taking a deep breath. "Just as cold and dingy as I remember it."

"You might want to be careful of how loud you say that." Clint tells her out of the side of his mouth, noting several mean stares they were receiving from.

She waves him off, but doesn't say anything more concerning Russia's dinginess. "You got a hotel name, didn't you?"

"Tasha has her favorites. I was thinking she would stay at _The Music Box_. It's not a dump but it's not really all that notable."

The stand outside the airport, waving down the Russian equivalent to a taxi, lucky to have one stop. They get in and Becky says something short in Russian. The driver just nods and starts driving. Clint is glad Becky can speak Russian, because he sure as hell can't.

"What makes that her favorite then?"

"She likes the music. There are always musicians in the front lobby."

Becky frowns, thinking back. "I thought you said she didn't like music?"

Indeed, Clint had told everyone that, when Beckett had told him to go ask Natasha to come up and listen to her play. "I lied. She doesn't really like you much, Beck." Clint admits.

"Why?" Becky asks simply, confused. She hadn't done anything wrong to Black Widow, had she? Never was mean or said anything to offend her. "I haven't done anything wrong or offended her, have I?"

"She's jealous." Even as he says it, he knows it's true.

"Jealous of what? Babysitting a bunch of five year olds?" Becky rolls her eyes.

Clint doesn't want to say it out loud though. He's afraid he'll jinx it.

"Jealous of what?" Becky repeats.

"Jealous of you. Spending time with me." He blurts out after a second.

Becky just stares at him, then burst out laughing. "No way! She is not jealous! Seriously, The Black Widow, jealous of me for spending time with _you?_"

Clint crosses his arms. "Hmph. You make it sound like I'm not fun to be with."

"Ha. You are a cool guy, Clint. I just… I guess I can believe it."

"Can?" Clint asks, thinking he had heard her wrong.

Becky nods, looking out at the buildings that fly by as she talks. "You guys really are too perfect for each other." She tells him, completely serious. "She really does like you. She just…doesn't know how to deal with it."

"She says love is for children…" Clint mumbles. He couldn't deal with this whole like-love thing right now. He had thought about it earlier, hadn't he? They are partners, nothing more.

"Good thing you act like a five year old then."

*(*)*

When they arrive, they are greeted by soft classical music. As Clint had said, a string quartet played off to the side.

"Should've brought my cello." Beckett says to herself.

"No need." Clint says simply, pushing her toward the small group. "Go over, lead their cellist away, and come back as his replacement. I need eyes down here."

"Fine." Becky grumbles, sticking her hands in her pockets and going toward the string players, a plan already formulated in her mind.

Clint goes to the front desk, trying to recall what little Russian Natasha had tried to teach him.

"Is there a Sonya Aristov staying here?" He asks, stumbling a bit over his Russian.

The man at the desk types something into his computer, then looks back up. "Yes, there is. I believe she is here now. Would you like me to let her know you're here, Mister…?"

Clint blinks, barely comprehending what the man says. "Do you speak English?" He blurts out. "I'm sorry, but Russian isn't a great language for me."

"I do, yes." His accent is thick, but Clint can understand it better than the gibberish he'd been speaking "Would you like to let her know you are here?" He asks again.

"Ummm no. Could I have her room number though? I'd like to surprise her." The man looks wary, and he knows that he's not supposed to give out that kind of information.

Clint leans in, and lies with a grin, "I'm going to propose to her so…"

The man chuckles and nods, deciding it would do no harm to tell the kind american. "She is in room 414, sir. Good luck!"

Hawkeye smiles grimly. "Yeah. I'm gonna need it." He looks to his left and spots the staircase, and heads in that direction.

"You there, Phantom?" Clint whispers, hoping the com would pick up his voice. The commucation system was a simple earwig with a mic in it, nearly invisible to the blind eye that wasn't trained to find one.

Clint hears what sounds like someone being punched in the face and then Becky replies. _"Yeah, I'm here Hawky. You got a room number?"_

"Yeah. 414." He says, glancing from number to number. He had passed 400 already, so she was on this floor for certain.

_"Think she'll be mad we followed her?"_ Becky asks.

"I would be surprised if she wasn't." He mutters, stopping in front of 414.

With that, he sets about picking the lock.

_"Hawkeye…"_ He hears Becky start. _"Ummm…"_

"I'm trying to concentrate, Phantom." He says lowly. "Not now."

_"Clint…I just-."_

"Not now." Clint growls again, nearly breaking his pin.

_"Clint!"_ Becky hisses. _"I just saw her!"_

"Saw who?" He asks impatiently.

"You could have let yourself in." Natasha says, her voice feathery. "It wasn't locked."

_Shit._ Clint straightens, standing to his full height before turning to face Natasha. "I can explain." He starts.

But he doesn't get to finish.

Natasha pulls him into a tight embrace and smashes her lips against his, effectively shorting out his mind.

"Then explain." She whispers when they break apart.

Clint makes a strange sound. He forgot how to make words.

"_So. Did she stab your eyes out yet?"_

* * *

_guess my favorite food, and you'll get a snippet of the next chapter ;) (hint: it has cheese in it :D)_


	13. Chapter 12

_HI everyone! Only one person guessed the correct answer (mac' and cheese) so, give kudos to them! Yay!_

_anyways, some sad new XP I have band camp all this upcoming week, staring tommorow, and it goes from 9am to 8pm, meaning i have no time to type and or post updates :( i'm sorry about that, but ill make sure to post a chapter of my one other clintasha story before tommorow._

_anyways, thanks again for anyone who reviewed last chapter! You guys rock!_

_read an enjoy as i think we have some nice clintxtasha interaction here :) but tell me what you think about it!_

* * *

~Chapter 12

"Ummm…" Clint manages after a long moment. "I think you ought to explain yourself first." He says, still seeing stars.

"What? For this?" She asks, kissing him again.

"Yeah. That." Clint squeaks.

"The dance is tonight." She murmurs, smiling seductively. "And I am in need of a dance partner, as well as my husband."

_"Clint, this seems a little sketchy…"_ Becky whispers.

"It's just Nat, Becky." Clint mutters, rolling his eyes. Beckett goes silent on the other end, but he thinks nothing of it, happy to have reunited with Natasha.

Natasha's eyes widen a bit, but she doesn't say a word. She stands still, as if listening for something, then says simply. "I have your dress clothes in my room for you, Michael." She says, stressing the name slightly to grab his attention.

Clint is a spy, and spies are known for their ability to adapt. So he adapts—though the kissing had thrown him a curveball, that's for certain.

"Very thoughtful of you, love." Clint says, smiling. Natasha very rarely kept up such an intimate act when they were alone, so there must be eyes and ears in the hotel that wouldn't allow her to drop the act. He would just have to play along and question it later when he had a chance.

Natasha pulled him into her motel room by the collar of his shirt, and showed him the single bed room, with what he assumed to be his tux strewn across a chair.

"We'll be leaving in a half hour, so get ready." She tells him simply, retrieving a dress from the closet.

Clint smirks as she heads to the bathroom to dress. "All right," He replies, turning to his own apparel, his smirk reforming into a grimace. He was not a fan of playing dress up, especially when it came to clothing that didn't allow him much movement. Movement is key in a fight, and giving the enemy the upper hand is the last thing he needs when he's still healing.

He starts getting ready, but the grimace stays stuck on his face until Tasha breaks his concentration a few moments later. "How's your shoulder, Michael? Any better from when you sprained it the other day?"

Clint reads into between the lines; she wanted to know how well he would hold up if things got bad. "It's sore," He admits, "But it's not as bad as it was."

"Well, make sure you don't make it worse." Tasha replies musically, her voice sweet as sugar.

Clint really feels like he married his partner. Except she had a nice personality replace her other, less caring one. But the nice personality was a bit much for him. If he married her, he would prefer her normal self. _But we aren't getting married, so who cares, _he tells himself firmly, though he isn't sure why he feels it bit saddened by the thought.

"Are you finished?" He calls, straightening his bow tie. He just wanted to get this done and over with.

"Yes, I'm done." She says, smiling and rolling her beautiful eyes at him.

Clint couldn't ignore how gorgeous she looked in the scarlet gown. The strapless and backless satin fabric showed off her flawless skin and perfect curves.

Her smiles widens as he continues to gape. "Shall we go?" She asks.

"Go we shall." Clint agrees, the two locking arms and walking out together.

As the pass the man at the front desk, he would smile at the couple.

She must've said yes.

*(*)*

"So. Mind explaining a little, Nat?" Clint asks from the side of his mouth as they get into an expensive rental car.

Natasha glances around and throws her purse backon the dashborad, getting in on the drivers side. He gets in on the other side, and waits expectantly for her to start explaining.

She ignores him, and digs through her handbag for something. She pulls out her phone and starts texting.

Clint groans.

"I'm here to find the woman who started the Black Widow program." She says, still looking intently at the small screen.

He stares at her tensely. He had known at least that much, but he didn't know her intentions of what she would do once she did find this person. "And then what? Kill her?"

Nat says nothing, and Clint is beginning to fear for her, hoping to the gods this wasn't some sort of suicidal mission she had plotted. If she managed to get herself killed, he wasn't sure if he could take that. It would kill him too. He had already lost enough people in his life, he wasn't going to lose her too. "Gods, Nat, you're not that kind of person anymore. If you even think about-."

"Here's a list of the people that will be there. One of them started the program. And they want to do another experiment. Make more girls that are like me." She hands him the phone, and Clint can't help but notice the clipped tone she used only when she was overly stressed or holding something back. He hated when she was like this.

But the text was not a list of people.

_Don't mention Becky at all when we get there. I don't know what's bugged and what isn't, so be careful what you say. We need her to watch. Text her and get her following at a safe distance._

Clint looks back up at Natasha, but she had started the car and stared intently at the road. He frowns at the text, and the single name that had been underlined beneath the sentence.

_Tonia Merenov._

"Are you sure this is right?" He asks.

"Yes. I'm certain."

"Natasha." He says, his voice breaking slightly as unwanted thoughts come to mind.

"What?"

"Promise me you won't do something stupid."

For a long moment she says nothing, hiding her eyes behind her black dyed hair, concentrating on the rough street ahead of them.

"Promise me Natalia won't do something stupid." He corrects himself.

Natasha bites her lip. "Fine. I promise."

Clint smiles, at least somewhat assured by the promise. "Okay. Now what do you want me to do at this party of yours?"

Natasha manages a crooked grin. "All I need you to do is stand there and look pretty."

Clint smirks. "I think I can do that." He quickly texts Becky, telling her the address, and to wait a while before setting off. She replies in a moment, saying over the comm, "_Jeez, Hawky. You had me worried. I couldn't hear anything over the quartet once we had to start playing, and you left me off on a really sour note there."_

He chuckles at the distraught Beckett and says out loud, "Sorry Beck. Didn't mean to worry you. You understand my text?"

_"Yeah. Should I bring my pointy objects?"_

"Only if you can manage to hide them while wearing a dress. You're gonna have to fit in here. Find a way to sneak in, but don't look like you know us."

Becky groans upon hearing the word 'dress'. _"You are just looking for ways to make me kill myself, aren't you, Hawkeye?"_

"You bet, Phantom. Radio silence from now on, unless you're in trouble or we're about to be. Got it?"

_"Sure."_

"Just like old times." Clint mutters to no one in particular.

"Old times?" Natasha asks curiously. He notes how tightly she grips the steering wheel and decides it would be best just to tell the complete truth this time.

"Beckett and I used to be partners. For a year, until we had a bad mission. Barely made it out."

Natasha nods, frowning thoughtfully. "We've been partners for four years."

Clint raises an eyebrow. "Umm…yeah. We have."

She turns to look at him for a brief second, a triumphant smile making her eyes sparkle with pride. "I win."

_"Clint," _Becky whines, sounding very disgruntled.

Hawkeye returns his attention to his former partner. "What? Something wrong?"

_"Yeah…. Where the heck am I supposed to find a dress?"_

* * *

_reviews are love..._


End file.
